


Mind Holes

by Keikokin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance, grisly murder scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keikokin/pseuds/Keikokin
Summary: Sherlock needs John.  John is suffering.  Can they reach out to each other in time?





	1. Hitting a nerve

John Watson sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and tried to let go of the day. As if sensing his need, Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play a beautiful piece. It was so soothing John could feel himself release more stress; while sinking deeper into his chair. When the concerto ended, Sherlock put his violin down. John knew the sound even 2with his eyes closed. Sherlock didn’t say a word, but John could sense it wouldn’t last long.  
“John.”  
“Yes?” John tried not be annoyed-sounding, but it was a close thing. He clenched his fist a bit instead, hating that the moment had been disturbed.  
“I’ve been working on tidying up my Mind Palace and I found an alarming amount of gaps on your floor.”  
“Did you say floor? Do I really have an entire floor? How big is Lestrade’s?” His eyes opened slowly to study his friend. Sherlock looked odd’ his face was pink. John couldn’t recall that ever happening before.  
He has a closet. But I fail to see the relevance to-“  
John had suddenly pushed himself upright. “Am I that important to you that I warrant an entire floor while poor Lestrade only gets a closet?”  
In response, Sherlock turned his back to him and stared out the front window. A silence lay heavy in the air interrupted only by the sounds from outside. Turning gracefully on point, Sherlock glared at John. “This wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why are you being so unnecessarily difficult?”  
Johns eyes widened at the response. The whiplash change of demeanor was off putting as well, even if it was par for the course. Sherlock was like that.  
“But I’m SO changeable!” Rang out in John’s mind and he felt sick even giving Moriarty a thought after what he had put them through. Small things tended to trigger that terrible time at the pool. He could almost feel the weight of the explosives again. Shaking his head, he shot straight to his feet, marched in to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. Observing his friends actions, Sherlock was left confused with no recourse but to file this with other questions about Captain John Watson, G.P. Had that been fear on John’s face? Another mystery.  
It was strange really that it was only very recently he discovered the discrepancies the subject matter had taken a turn as well. Perhaps in time another floor would have to be added to Johns.  
When John returned to the sitting room, tea in hand; Sherlock remained quiet. He sat down and studied the man over his folded hands. John drank for a few minutes before he decided to give in. “So what questions do you need to ask me for your Mind Palace? And mind you, I reserve the right to refuse if I feel it’s too personal. “  
“Right!” Sherlock smiled broadly, bounded up and sat in a ball on the soda. “First off, I need to touch your hair.” Sherlock was up and off the sofa crossing to John before the other man got a work out. But John Watson still had military reflexes. He darted out of the way before Sherlock’s long arm could reach him. “Oy! What in bloody hell do you need to touch my hair for?”  
“Sensory and tactile information are crucial in order to obtain more data about you. It’s been quite annoying not knowing.”  
John held out his arm stiffly to put space between them. But a smile tugged at his mouth. “So you’re saying you’ve wanted to run your fingers through my hair?”  
“Yes, exactly!” Sherlock bounced forward, easily reaching past Johns arm to feel his hair. For a moment, he went stiff in reaction before the moment passed. Long, talented fingers of the accomplished violinist sent waves of soothing bliss through his body. He may have moaned in response. “Do you like that?” Sherlock was pitched low and filled with the excitement of a new discovery; his excitement rivaling that of Lestrade calling with a serial murder case.  
“God yes, I’ve been knotted up all week from work. It’s been terrible, really.”  
“You could have told me John. I thought you knew you can tell me anything.”  
“Even if it’s boring?” John’s mouth tugged up into a smile. “I’m surprised the Great Sherlock Holmes didn’t know,” John teased. Stepping away from Sherlock with some regret. “But, I guess that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? What’s your next question?”  
“Have you ever committed any sexual act with a man, say when you were in Afghanistan?”  
“I am not gay.”  
“Yes, well I’ve spoken to Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Anthea, Mike and your sister. All of whom believe that something must have happened to you in the past that has created this need to reaffirm your sexuality.”  
John’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve asked our friends about this? Sherlock!”  
“A bit not good?”  
“I’d say so!”  
“I would still like to hear an answer – that is if you’re brave enough to be truthful.”  
John rubbed a hand down his face. Speaking the truth at this juncture could start a chain reaction. He wasn’t ready – and he drifted off into a flashback memory from the war. Concerned, Sherlock reached out to John’s good shoulder and gave it a good shake. “John? John? Are you alright? Should I call Mrs. Hudson?” John blinked and came back to his senses. He looked up into fearful, searching eyes. “Never mind, I can see the answer on your face. You have never put it out of the realm of possibility or pursued it. But others – first in uni I think, then Med school. They sought you.” Sherlock took a deep breath, “In Afghanistan someone tried without your consent?”  
“How did you- you know what? Nevermind. Forget I even asked. But you did miss one thing.”  
Sherlock growled, “If they hurt you-“  
“No. And no man has ever interested me.”  
“You are wrong John.”  
“I think I’d be the one to know, don’t you?” He got to his coat, put it on and left the flat slamming the door behind him and never looking back. If he had he might have seen Sherlock smiling from ear to ear. He’d hit a nerve.


	2. Mind blown or Holes on both sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to calm down.

John Watson was storming through London in a right proper huff. His emotions were all over the place. He knew very well that he was near his breaking point with the Detective. He had to get away from Sherlock and the sudden closeness of the flat. It was affecting him oddly.   
It wasn’t until he reached the Thames that he realized how far he’d gone. He also noted the time. Taking out his cell phone, he saw the multiple texts from Sherlock and sighed. Thumbing through them, John slowly began to smile, finally easing some of his stress away. 

Where are you? -SH  
I still need answers! -SH  
Get milk if you want tea when you get home. -SH  
When are you coming home? -SH  
Should I ask Mycroft to send a car? -SH  
Your tea is getting cold. –SH

Putting his phone away, John looked over the river to so-called London eye, that wasn’t really in London. He thought of the many couples living easier day-to-day relationships than him. He envied those on the ride simply enjoyed the view and the company. Sherlock’s words had both happiness and confusion fighting in his consciousness. It was throwing him off completely. It was quite the ego booster to hear he had a whole floor in Sherlock’s Mind Palace. Yet, it was confusing to have Sherlock touching him and how his heart raced in reaction. When Sherlock cupped his face, the sensations were overwhelming; desire, need, and comfort. And God save him – pure carnal lust had crashed over him like a wave so strong it knocked him back. A strategic retreat was the only option. 

He could not speak to Sherlock like that. It would be ridiculous to speak to Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant, incredibly bright young genius and not feel like an idiot nine times out of ten. It was too vulnerable a position already without bringing emotions and lust into it. When had Sherlock gone and changed the rules of sharing a flat, anyway? But nothing was really fair when it came to Sherlock. “It would have been nice to have had a bit of warning you know!” He cursed the skies aloud, not caring if others heard him or not. He shook his fist at the sky for good measure. “What do I do now?” John whispered to himself. “Should I move out?” 

A sickening feeling filled his being and he shook openly. Simply from the mere thought of the man his heart clenched, that is when he wasn’t mad as bloody hell at the man. He wanted to just go home. Sighing in defeat, he turned to find Sherlock standing right there. It was all John could do not to jump. 

Sherlock cleared his throat. “When Mycroft told me where you were, he held some concern that you were going to jump.” Sherlock explained his eyes raking over John to make sure he was alright. John groaned. Mycroft, he might have known. Looking past Sherlock, he saw the long, sleek sedan parked nearby. “You didn’t answer my texts.” Sherlock pouted. “Are you so mad at me John?” 

“A bit of it is that, yes. But you really confused me. I needed the time and space to calm down. I wasn’t prepared.” 

Sherlock smirked. “I hit a nerve didn’t I? I even excited you either by touch or by possibilities you hadn’t entertained. John? Which is it?” 

“Does it really matter Sherlock? And may I remind you that you were the one petting my hair?”   
Sherlock took a step closer. “I quite enjoyed it actually. It’s much softer and smoother than it looks.” His hand shot out again, his fingers tracing over John’s head. John grabbed his wrist and lowered their arms.   
“We need to talk about this Sherlock. I just don’t know if I can yet.”

With a nod, Sherlock turned toward Mycroft’s car and opened the door before closing it loudly behind him. Next to him sat Anthea. She looked up at him in a pitying way. “He’s only now trying to figure out if he likes you? A bit dim is he?” Sherlock chuckled, and reached over to cover her hand with his, grateful for her support. The door was suddenly wrenched open and John stood there gaping looking at their hands. Anthea giggled pulling her hand away quickly. She shook her head. “Boys,” she muttered and Sherlock smiled at her fondly.  
John cast his mind about but couldn’t decide what to say. It had been strange to see Sherlock and Althea having what was obviously a personal moment. Did Sherlock like her? Did Sherlock Holmes, the World’s only Consulting Detective ever have a girlfriend?? He looked quite comfortable with her, John noted, and then scolded himself for even caring. Was the Consulting Detective right? He usually was. In the ensuing silence, John observed his flat mate who was also observing him. He didn’t so much as glance at Althea now. She was back to texting on her phone ignoring them both. 

It was easy enough to admit Sherlock was interesting, John mused. Unless, he was talking about difference in tobacco ashes. Looking at Sherlock he took in his exotic features. It was those looks that opened many a door during a case. Sherlock could really turn on the charm if he wanted to with the result being women nearly swooning at his feet. And Sherlock being Sherlock never really noticed or cared, until Irene Adler, the Woman. Irene had not believed he and Sherlock weren’t already involved. She wasn’t the only one. Many a comment had been overheard at the Yard. He and Sherlock had always ignored them, or at least he tried. So if that were the case, and Sherlock secretly wanted him – had those denials hurt the Detective in some fashion?  
He stared out the window and remembered how Sherlock had read him. It felt like having his flash removed strip by strip, like a whip. Memories of whips, the smell of sweat on leather and John felt the old fear grip him. His breathing became ragged. A strong grip on his good shoulder, yanked him back from the terrors of war and capture. “John? John? What’s wrong? “

John shook his head and pushed Sherlock away. “Nothing Sherlock. I’m fine really.” A snort of disbelief came from Antheas side of the car. At long last the sedan pulled up in front of Speedy’s. Sherlock and John began to get out when Anthea added, “Good luck with that one.” It was hard to tell whom she was speaking to but John felt his face warm at the innuendo and noted that Sherlock looked amused. They walked upstairs and John went straight to bed. The emotions of the day had drained him. Soothing sounds from Sherlocks violin filled the air and he was soon asleep. 

After an hour or so of playing, Sherlock put down his violin. The flat became deathly still. It was perfect for thinking. Crossing over to the couch he plopped down on it, kicking his feet over the edge and propping his head with his arm. How could he make John see what everyone around him saw? John already seemed emotional of late without all these feelings getting in the way. Even in the car John had suddenly broke out in a sweat; his fists clenching. Was it a memory from the war or had it more to do with their current situation? He needed more data. He always did where John was concerned.


	3. Not just your landlady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for our favorite landlady to spy on the boys.

Yet, he’d been so certain John held an attraction for him. When he’d held Johns face he noted the rapid pulse, the wide eyes and the flushed cheeks. It had only taken a moment for John to go on the defensive and leave for hours. He didn’t want that to happen again. Sherlock was deep in his Mind Palace when John came down for breakfast the next morning. He shook his head at his insomniac flat mate and began making two cups of tea. 

“Hello!” Mrs. Hudson appeared at the door carrying a tray. Eyeing John she made for the kitchen. The smell of fresh scones filled the air as Mrs. Hudson returned fussing about and shoving a scone at each. John smiled. “They smell delicious.” He made for one of the plates on the tray and noticed Sherlock hadn’t moved. Mrs. Hudson sat with a cup of tea. Sherlock suddenly stood up, putting his untouched scone down and walked over to the window to look out. He picked up his violin and began to play something soft. She took a sip and leaned toward John. “I heard you leave last night. You two had another domestic, didn’t you? Is there anything I can do? She sat back, wringing her hands. “It’s only Sherlock was so upset when you left. Then when time passed, oh he was pacing the floor. You could have knocked me down with a feather when he called to ask Mycrofts help.” 

Belatedly, John realized that he’d assumed Mycroft had sent the car. Remember his texts from the previous night, he looked them over again. 

Should I ask Mycroft to send a car – SH

“What is it dear?” Mrs. Hudson craned her neck to try and read it too. John handed the phone to her and took another sip of tea. “Oh my, he asked so nicey. You really do being out the best in him. He was so lost before you arrived John.” Mrs. Hudson patted Johns hand. 

Thinking back to last night he asked, “Has Sherlock ever been in a relationship with a woman?” 

Laughing a bit, she replied, “Oh my no. If his brother I to be believed he’s still a virgin. Load of nonsense if you ask me. I've seen his charm in action, and he knows how to use it. Doesn’t he, that one? She winked at John. 

Heat filled John’s face. He busied himself by eating his scone and drinking tea. He was surprised to hear Sherlock was actually worried. He had even asked Mycroft for help. Sherlock hated doing that. Mycroft’s help always came with a price tag. Mrs. Hudson continued her softly spoken commentary, mindful of Sherlock at the window. “Why even that nice Lestrade fellow has come to admire Sherlock. You two together has made both our lives easier. I know you admire him too, even if he drives us all up a wall.” John murmured in agreement. She glared at him and he cleared his throat. 

“Yes of course I admire him, the great git.” Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly now and drank some more tea. “Ever notice how Sherlock acts when you bring a new woman around?” She giggled. “It’s so cute when he’s so possessive and jealous of you. Mind you’ve done it too when that Adler woman was about. You frowned the entire case John, terrible the wrinkles that you’ll get from that.” John tried to smooth out said wrinkles with one hand as she continued on in soft tones. “ So you admire him, get possessive of him and are jealous when he is interested in a woman. It seems you two have so much in common. It’s so sweet dear.” 

The music stopped and a large yawn erupted from Sherlock. He put down the violin and stretched like a long, graceful cat. John was entranced. Mrs. Hudson smiled at his reaction, tutted and winked at Sherlock. She said her goodbyes and left them to it, gathering up her tray as she went. “Goodbye Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock intoned flatly. He moved over to the kitchen table and sat down. John sighed and went to make some more tea. 

Minutes later he sat a cup in front of Sherlock before sitting down at the table. A part of him was still amazed it was clear of experiments. “Thank you John.” Sherlock’s voice was soft and sexy.

“Okay, that’s it. First you thank me and now the voice? What are you after now?” John’s brow furrowed tightly, his own voice clipped.

Sherlock weighed his words carefully. He wanted to say “you.” But it was a fairly good bet now was not a good time for it. Instead he said, “I’ve noticed that you don’t like loud sounds in the morning. “

John blinked. Sherlock was being considerate too? He got up and went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle from a lower cabinet. Returning to the table, he opened it and poured some into his now empty tea cup. “A bit early for that isn’t it John?” 

“Not in the bloody least, if this day is going the way I suspect it is.” His voice was all grumbles and forcibly direct. 

“Mycroft asked me to give this to you. He also requests,” Sherlock’s eyes rolled, “that you keep a better eye on-“

“-his baby brother?” John razed. Sherlock rolled his eyes again. John waved the fancy envelope back at him. 

“So what does it really say? I know you’ve either read it or deduced it. But you act as though you actually agree with it.” 

“In fact I do. Mycroft and his boyfriend have been scheming for weeks.” He pointed at the envelope now on the table, with a long graceful finger. “This is the culmination of those efforts.”

John frowned and opened the envelope, took out the letter and began to read. He sipped at his drink before his eyes went wide. His eyes met Sherlocks and held there. “He can do this?” A heartbeat later and his brow furrowed. “Wait! Mycroft has a boyfriend? The Ice Man?” 

Sherlock grinned. “None other than our own dear Inspector Lestrade.” 

Johns mouth fell open. He shook his head and closed it. Taking his cup in his hands he raised it in a toast. “That that was funny Sherlock, very good really. But seriously, your brother dates? He shook a finger at Sherlock. “Wait until I tell Greg you said that. Oh can you imagine the field day Anderson and Sally would have with that?” 

Sherlock’s face went blank, then his chin came up. “My brother is capable of emotions, as am I.” Sherlock answered stiffly. He walked back to the sofa and threw himself on it, turning to face the wall and wrapping his light blue house coat tightly around him.

John laughed. “For the love of God, you are bloody serious about this aren’t you? Mycroft and Greg?” John shook his head and laughed. “Those two, really?” 

Sherlock threw himself back around to glare at John. “At least Greg knows a good thing when he sees it.” He huffed and rolled back over. 

Giving up the battle for the moment, John turned his attention back to the envelope on the table. He opened it and began to read. It was a job offer but it was more than that. He’d be able to make his own hours as an independent GP or simply be appointed to being the first Royal Medical Consultant to the New Scotland Yard. It sounded like it was just made up! Mycroft and Greg had to really work on this, John thought gratefully. It also offered John the opportunity to be legally and god-help-him willingly at Sherlock’s side 24/7. He put his cup in the sink and returned to his room. The early drinking made him comfortably sleepy, so he returned to bed. Maybe when he woke up everything would make sense again. There were already too many revelations for so few hours.


	4. Company when you least want it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you want to be alone its just not possible

While John slept, Sherlock was being visited by Lestrade. It annoyed him but he was making an effort for his brothers sake, plus Lestrade was one of the less stupid people he knew. Sherlock cocked his head to one side and pointed up toward John’s bedroom. “He’s having nightmares again.” They both quieted and Greg ran his hand through his hair in frustration listening to John cry out loudly for help sounding as if he was in great pain. “Geez, how do you handle that? Maybe he should be on medication for that?”  
Sherlock snorted. “Doctors make the worst patients.” Greg chuckled. The stairs creaked loudly and they both looked toward them. John appeared looking haggard, in only his pants and a t-shirt. He seemed not to notice either one. Greg was about to comment when he suddenly found a large hand over his mouth. Sherlock shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “Careful Inspector, he’s sleepwalking,” Sherlock whispered.  
“Shouldn’t we wake him?” Greg whispered. Both of them watched as John picked up his phone. Raising it to his ear, he said, “This is Captain John Watson. We need more medical staff down here STAT!” Seemingly satisfied, he put the phone back down. John started to walk to the stairs but stopped beside Sherlock. Leaning over he planted a gently kiss to the top of Sherlocks’ head before commenting, “I’ll make sure your family gets it.” He turned sharply in military fashion and marched off to the stairs without a single look back.  
When he was gone, Greg whistled low and slow. “This isn’t good Sherlock. You know I have to tell Mycroft about this, yeah? John deserves to have the best medical treatment.”  
“Hmm. I wonder what triggered it this time? It was unfortunate his last therapist was a waste.” Greg nodded having heard about it from Mycroft. His love so dearly loathed incompetence at any level. “The Work seemed to have healed him. Why is this becoming worse?” Sherlock asked in frustration.  
“Look Sherlock. I know it’s none of my business…” Lestrade interrupted his monologue.  
“It never stopped you before, go on,” Sherlock waved his hand about.  
“Have you told him yet, how you feel, I mean.” Lestrade was a bit uncomfortable talking about it and squirmed in his seat thinking of how he felt about Mycroft and more importantly how Mycroft could make him feel.  
“Of course, I know what you mean!” Sherlock snapped.  
“Don’t get snippy with me Sherlock Holmes, just because you’re worried about John. It’s just, have you ever thought maybe he needs you even more than you need him?” Lestrade cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock.  
“Hmm. So what do you advise I do next, since you seem to have all the answers.” Sherlock tried not to snap but it was clearly an effort on his part.  
Greg snorted at Sherlocks tone, but refrained from commenting. “I admit this is a bit of a turn up. Has John ever told you what he saw over there?” Lestrade gestured with his head in the general direction of the Middle East.  
“No. He remains close-mouthed on the whole issue. It’s a very difficult time for him to talk about, so I don’t ask. It hurts him, even Donovan could read it on his face.  
“No kidding.” Greg smiled and pointed upstairs, then stood, taking his cup back to the kitchen. “Maybe. I’ll stop by later or text and see if he wants to go to the pub.”  
“He was already drinking today and this is the result. Do you really think he needs more? I don’t, do you?”  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft had entered and glared at his younger brother for his tone of voice. “Don’t speak to Gregory that way.” His eyes then shot over to Greg and a fond smile crossed his face. “Gregory, how nice to see you. Please ignore Sherlock, I can assure you he was raised to have better manners than that.”  
Lestrades face had lit up with a huge smile. He walked over to Mycroft and gave him a tender, brief kiss while Sherlock made retching sounds in the background. “Oh gag!” Sherlock had covered his eyes.  
“Jealous, little brother?” You do know only you are standing between you and happiness such as ours.” Greg blushed and slid an arm around Mycrofts waist. Mycroft sighed happily and leaned into the Inspector.  
“I’m quite sure that John doesn’t want to know or discuss any part of that issue. So do keep your over-sized noses out of it. “  
They turned as one when they heard John speak up from behind them. “What issue is that? And what don’t I want to know?” He was now dressed in a cream colored jumper and jeans. He looked adorably confused in Sherlock’s mind. Plus he always did love Johns feet bare. Mycroft and Greg pulled closer together and glared at Sherlock. “Does everyone know but me?” John pushed his way by them for the kitchen for tea and pain killers for his head.  
“I was going to text you,” Lestrade said softly to Mycroft.  
“John’s PTSD I take it?” Mycroft asked.  
Greg nodded, “Sleepwalking through the war.”  
Mycroft kissed him on the cheek for letting him know. In the back of his mind, he was already compiling a list of a more suitable therapist for John. He cleared his throat and looked toward the kitchen. “John have you had a chance to consider our offer? It would also include access to support lines. Just in case, my baby brother finally drives you to the brink.”  
“Only because he doesn’t have a license,” Greg joked. Sherlock winged the union Jack pillow at his head. Greg saw it, ducked and it hit Mycroft. Sherlock waved at him with childish glee.  
“So is anyone going to tell me what issue you were discussing? If its about me I have the right to know.”  
“I agree.” Mycroft looked to Greg. “Oh what? Yeah, yeah me too.” Johns attention focused solely on Sherlock. “So its down to you, Sherlock. Care to be honest with me or will this be another secret between us?”  
“I don’t want to tell you because it will cause another argument. Or you’ll go on one of your walks for hours. I don’t want to lose your friendship, or my blogger.”  
Mycroft cleared his throat. “For Gods sake Sherlock just tell him.” He grabbed Greg’s hand and they both left quickly. When the door closed behind them, the silence hung in the air.  
Trying to buy time, Sherlock decided to admit another truth. (to divert Johns attention) You were sleepwalking earlier. Lestrade saw it as well. Your PTSD seems to be affecting you to a greater degree than in the past. Mycroft will probably hear about it from Lestrade, if he hasn’t already. So be prepared to be kidnapped for an appointment.”  
“My god. You aren’t kidding are you?” Sherlock shook his head. “I thought I was over that. But seriously, its happened before.”  
“Do you know of anything that helps?”  
John flushed pink before he nodded. “What?” Sherlock pressed.  
“Well you may have noticed I haven’t been dating lately.” Sherlock took a moment to reflect and realized it was true. “Go on,” he whispered sensing how fragile the moment had become.”  
“Nightmares are usually cured by, um, well you see I’m very tactile in my relationships. It calms me, kind of feels safe somehow. But sleepwalking for me usually stops when I don’t have any, um, energy.”  
“So after a long day? I could text Lestrade about cold cases if you’d like.” He stopped talking when he saw how clearly embarrassed John was.  
John cleared his throat. “Um, no Sherlock it requires a good, um, well…” he pulled at his shirt collar.  
Sherlock smirked only one thing ever got John so unnerved. “You mean after sex?” John closed his eyes and nodded, “I was so right, this really is one of those days.”  
He moved away from Sherlock and sat down in his chair, while Sherlock laid down over top of him, giving John a sudden and large lapful to contend with. “Does this count as touching you more?”  
John shoved Sherlock onto the floor. “Yes but you’re heavy, you great git.” He moved to the couch and Sherlock resumed his position with a smile and put on some crap telly.


	5. Nothing misses Mrs. Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock makes it clear that he's only for one man.

“Yoo hoo! Boys, I made you a little something to go with the tea.” She entered the flat with a tray and took in the scene. John was sitting on the couch his one hand playing with Sherlocks hair. Sherlock was curled around John like and oversized cat drinking in the sun. One of Sherlock’s arms was raised and playing with John’s hair at the nape. They were so ensconced in their little world; neither said a word to her. The telly was droning on in the background. 

Beaming with happiness, she put the tray down and quietly left the room. 

It wasn’t exactly comfortable and eventually John woke first, since he’d already had a nap that day. Sherlock soon began to stir. His brilliant eyes opened slowly, spotting John he smiled brightly. Anything John was about to say died on his lips. The late sunlight highlighted the colors that swirled in the Detective’s eyes. His hair was wild and thick from play. It was in that very moment John acknowledged his feelings for the exotically handsome young man in his lap. Sherlock made John feel very old at times, but he knew he was infinitely blessed, remembering his old bedsit. 

Without Sherlock life was bleak and desolate and BORING. Life with Sherlock was interesting, exciting and always in flux, never a dull moment. “I don’t want to move you.” 

Sherlocks eyes twinkled. “Then we shall simply stay at home, unless it’s for the Work.” He stared at John. “You are accepting the position, aren’t you?” 

“Hmm, what? Oh yes, I’d be a fool to pass it up. I shudder to think what they demand in payment. God, Greg and Mycroft! I’m still trying to wrap my head around that one. But together, now that’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t it?” After a hesitation he added, “But I feel like I’ve cheated somehow.” 

“After all the times we’ve saved this country?” Sherlock looked at his flat mate pointedly, daring him to argue. Johns stomach took the moment to growl loudly. “It would seem I need to feed my blogger. Angelos?” 

“Only if you promise to tell me the rest of it Sherlock. Don’t think I haven’t remembered. I need your trust Sherlock. I think I’ve earned it, really.”

“Yes, of course, But promise you won’t run off?” 

“Promise.” John stood, stretched and excused himself to go get ready. Sherlock watched him go; his mind busy cataloguing every nuance from their conversation. It was time, he realized. He only hoped John would take it well. It might be a bit sudden and fast to admit. Yet again hadn’t they already been together for some time? His nose screwed up in distaste knowing Mycroft and Greg had been correct. He had to tell John before he lost Johns trust. Thinking of their time on the couch earlier, he smiled. Fortified, he went to his own room to change. He put on his dark blue shirt and black suit knowing it was a combination John liked. 

When they were both ready to leave, Sherlock remembered something. “I need to swing by Barts first. Molly wants her cooler returned.” John agreed quickly, glad to hear it was leaving the flat. He pulled at the cream jumper Sherlock gave him for Christmas, made out of cashmere. Sherlock was pleased John didn’t bother with a shirt underneath, thus it clung to his every muscle. It took Sherlock no time at all to flag down a cab and they soon arrived at Barts. Sherlock jumped out and put out his arm to block Johns way. “Hold the cab. I’ll be right back.” John willingly agreed and watched Sherlock charge off, cooler in hand. 

Sherlock spotted Molly the second he walked into the morgue. She was sporting a new hair style with just a touch of makeup. Her outfit was new as well he noted in seconds. “What’s his name?” He asked by way of a greeting. 

Non-plussed Molly answered, “Justin Campbell.” Sherlock put the cooler down on a nearby slab. He peered over the cadaber she was working on currently. “Murder?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry Sherlock, brain tumor.” 

“BORING.” He cleared his throat. “Since you are seeing someone at the moment, you won’t be upset–“  
She smiled. “-if you tell John you love him?” 

He blinked at her perceptiveness, amazed he’d underestimated her yet again. “When did I become so transparent?” Molly laughed drily. 

“Do you mind if I – just this once?” She gestured between them. “Sort of make it, I don’t know, final?”   
Sherlock decided to humor her to keep things peaceful between them. Putting his hands on her waist, he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, before pulling back a bit. 

The door slammed open and John entered, “Sherlock how long do you want me to hold the cab?” His eyes landed on the two and in quick military fashion assessed the situation and their relative positions. Sherlock could see Johns brain putting two and two together to come up with six. That was when Sherlock’s text alarm went off. He took a large step away from Molly. Looking down he saw it was from Lestrade.  
Double murder, right up your alley. 200 Richmond Road. 

When Sherlock looked up John was gone and Molly was biting her lip and wringing her hands. It all said one thing - not good. Running back to the street he just managed to jump into the cab before John ordered it away from the curb. He quickly read off the address Lestrade sent. Sitting back, he looked over John. His face was like a storm cloud and he was holding his leg in pain. “It wasn’t what you think.”


	6. Please believe in us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has screwed up again and has to make it right.

“You were kissing her, deny it.” John snapped. 

“It was only on the cheek to say goodbye, formally.” He then fell silent and looked out the window. Emotions confused him. He only wanted to tell John he loved him, not anger him. Feeling hurt, he added, “Molly Hooper is seeing someone, a Justin Campbell. I thought you trusted me.” All he received in return was a look of doubt. It remained quiet for the rest of the ride.

They arrived on a rather grisly scene, the two dead bodies in the center. John froze in his tracks. The two bodies were in an oil barrel full of water. They’d been boiled to death. He’d seen it in the war. The weight of his time in the Middle East suddenly weighed down on him. His ears registered the sound of someone being sick. He had wished when he’d seen this the first time, to never smell this again. The scent of burning hair and flesh lingered about them like fog. It was all too familiar. 

Lestrade walked over with a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “Eh Sherlock, what’s with him?” Lestrade pointed to John who had a gun in his hand and was crouched down eying the perimeter. Sherlock leapt to his feet, crossing to John in mere seconds. John reached up and yanked him to the ground, his eyes wild. He then shoved him away and began to eye the perimeter again. “John are you okay?” 

John shook his head violently, panting and looked around them before putting his gun away. Sherlock heard Lestrade sigh in relief. John put his head down into his hands. Sherlock softly combed his fingers through Johns hair. “Look at me John.” He did. “Keep looking at me. That’s it. Listen to my voice John. They are long gone. Sherlock slowly helped John stand back up. Sherlock draped his arm over Johns shoulder. “We’re leaving Lestrade. You can find the heathens at a warehouse by the dock. There should be an armoured car there as well. It was hijacked last week.” 

“How –“ Lestrade began but Sherlock was already whisking John away from the scene. Looking up into a camera he mouthed. “CAR NOW”. It arrived three minutes later. 

“Angelos,” Sherlock told the driver. He hoped food would ground John back firmly in reality. He wanted nothing more than to pull John into his arms. He yelled at himself for not telling John of his feelings sooner. Perhaps Lestrade had been right. Did John need him? Could he get past Johns stubbornness to admit they didn’t have to be gay to love each other? He looked to the other side of the cab where John was looking out the window. Surely now was not a good time. It would have to keep again. Sherlock’s text alarm went off and he looked down at it. 

John’s appoint is at 7 am tomorrow. Dr. Shaw. Details to follow – MH

“Mycroft has an appointment for you at 7 am tomorrow.” 

“He’s turning into a mother hen.” 

“He’s been concerned ever since we met.” 

“Why?” John soon forgot his question as the cab pulled up at Angelos. “Oh thank god, I’m famished.” 

Their orders were quickly taken by a waitress and they sat down to wait. During the wait, John seemed to calm down completely. Sherlock noticed he was inhaling the smell of the restaurant deeply. He shut his eyes, only now realizing that it was the smell of the scene that had triggered John to think he was back in the war. John cleared his throat. “You were going to tell me what’s going on?’ Does it have anything to do with Mycrofts mother hen act?” 

Sherlock took a deep, fortifying breath. This was it. “In a way, he became that way after your so called “Study in Pink”. That night when you killed a man for me, he cleaned it up. It was simple deduction to determine it was you, and he also saw how it affected me.” 

“How?” Their food arrived and while John ate his dinner with gusto, Sherlock tried to explain. “Mycroft has been protective of me since we were young. He sees it as his brotherly duty. I don’t know how far it’s gone, but I do know he would never have killed for me.” Taking a small bite, he continued. “I was going to take the pill.” 

John sputtered and threw his napkin down, looking ready to cause a scene of epic proportions. Sherlock put a hand on his good shoulder. “You stopped me.” 

“But why would you do that?” John asked fearfully. 

“I had nothing to lose. It was more important to solve the case. Who would miss me? Mycroft would move on and Mrs. Hudson cold get another tenant. I was tired of being alone and that I was a freak or to piss off. At the time, the solution seemed crystal clear. “But I’d forgotten about you.” He took another nibble of his chicken alfredo. “You saved my life and I fell in love with you.” 

Johns hand shook and he lowered his fork to his own plate of alfredo. He looked Sherlock straight in the eye and asked, “Say it again, please?” 

“What? That I fell in love with you? Do you have any idea how confusing that is for a self-proclaimed sociopath? Of course the next time Mycroft saw me he knew, before I’d even been willing to admit it to myself. From that point on he’s become even more protective. I’m sure you noticed that car was there in mintures. He’s been following us, at a discrete distance of course.”

“Oh but of course. Do you really love me Sherlock? Are you sure?” 

Sherlock covered Johns hand with his own, holding on tightly. Still looking into John’s eyes he said, “Captain John Hamish Watson I love you more than the Work. I’d be lost without my blogger.” 

John smiled brightly. “You mean it.” Sherlock nodded. “GOOD!” John’s smile grew and he started to eat again. Sherlock frowned. Wasn’t there supposed to be more? There was always more in the sappy movies Mrs. Hudson watched. He was hesitant to push, after all John had just gone back to eating and smiling at him between bites. “So I suppose you want me to give up dating women?” John smiled. 

Sherlock frowned. “They were dull and boring anyway. Besides you haven’t been on a date for awhile.” 

“Until tonight?” John asked curiously. Sherlock smiled and nodded. “So I suppose you will also expect to sleep in my bed now?” 

“It would help with your nightmares, you said that yourself. And if we decide to engage in sexual relations that would help as well, correct?” 

John flushed a bit but nodded. “Is that what you want?” 

“It’s not necessary, but I do have some experiments –“ John laughed. “Of course you do. Will a public relationship be part of this as well?” 

“If you are ashamed of being seen with me –“ 

John squeezed Sherlocks hand hard. “I’m honored.” Sherlock beamed. They stood and started to gather their leftovers to take home. 

Angelo came up from behind them putting his beefy arms around their necks, one on each side. “So the love birds returned. I knew it from the first time this would last. Now I see the smiles – finally, eh?” With a hearty pat to both their backs, he waved goodnight. Sherlock hailed a cab. They sat in comfortable silence this time. When they arrived home at last, John was yawning. They slowly climbed the stairs and let themselves into the flat. 

Sherlock closed the space between them and gently held John in his arms and kissed his forehead. His lips moved again, capturing Johns in his own. John startled him by returning it with fervor. They rubbed together, panting and grabbing. When Sherlock palmed Johns erection, the older man went off like a rocket. Sherlock did too, much to his surprise. 

“Shall we try to make it to the bed this time?” Sherlock panted.

“God yes.” 

They still had things to deal with between them, along with Johns PTSD issues. But for now everything was perfect – and they weren’t about to waste another second of it.


End file.
